8 Simple Rules for Dating my Colony
by genericnamehere
Summary: America has vowed to claim Australia as his own, once and for all. Too bad he has to get through England first.
1. Chapter 1

8 Simples Rules (To Date My Colony) 1

A fling with Russia.

"Improving relations" with Japan and China.

The occasional night of drunken debauchery with Denmark.

Sibling with benefits relations.

There was no denying the obvious truth. He got around a lot.

And in America's personal opinion, Australia got around too much. How could he possibly get Australia for himself, when all these other nations were getting in the way? This went beyond the casual flings that other nations wanted. No, America always had to be different. He wanted something more. He wanted dates, notes, flowers, sweet nothings, hand holding and all that mushy Hollywood stuff. He wanted a relationship; a serious one.

His thoughts were racing as he looked down the table. Australia was passing notes with New Zealand. They were probably planning to go out after the meeting. There was no way that America would be able to catch him without plans when they dispersed if he let them keep going. He'd have to stop it. He glanced over at where France had the floor, going on about—He didn't even remember what their meeting was about today. Only thoughts of Australia were occupying his mind at the moment. He glanced back down the table. Another note. He was running out of time. He had to act fast. It's too bad there was only one thing he could do from his place at the table.

There was a visible jump from every nation in the room as America suddenly slammed his hands on the table, cracking it and sending the pieces toppling to the ground.

"Whoops. Hehe…I'll pay for that…" America looked down to where Australia was sitting. "But more importantly! Australia!"

All eyes fell on a bewildered and confused looking Australia. "….Yes?"

America smirked. "I've been watching and waiting long enough. I'm going to make you mine."

The other nations in the room groaned as Australia laughed. "You didn't have to interrupt the meeting and break the table if you wanted a quick root. You could have just asked."

America shook his head. He had expected this. "No. I don't want to be some fling. I want to date you, and only you and have you only date me. I'm going to make you fall so hard, you'll never want anyone else!"

China rolled his eyes. "That would only last about a week."

Austria leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. "This is hardly worth the damage you've caused. And the table! You could have done without destroying it! Do you realize the waste of money this is? Tables like this are not cheap. I can only imagine that it will cost several thousands of dollars to replace. Honestly, you should have a little more restraint." He continued his rant, but America wasn't listening. He was focused solely on Australia, who looked amused? What?

"You don't think you're the only one that's ever propositioned me like that?" He stood up from his seat, walking over. "Alright, America. I'll give it a burl and go on a date with you…" He stopped, just to the side of America. "If you can get through the gatekeeper." He pointed behind America to England, who was glowering, glaring, and all but breaking his own chair from how tightly he was holding the arms of it. Australia patted America's shoulder then left the room. The meeting was obviously over for the day.

"America…"

America looked over at England and grinned. He had to get through England? How hard could it be?


	2. Chapter 2

"I absolutely refuse. I will not allow it! Are you barmy, America? Why would I allow you, of all people, to date one of my colonies?"

America rolled his eyes. The meeting had ended, and with it the other nations had dispersed, more than hour ago and they were still arguing about this. "Oh, because letting him sleep around with Russia and China is so much better? He's not a colony anymore anyway! Or did you forget about that whole granting independence thing?" He had done that, hadn't he? Oh well. America had already said it. If it wasn't wrong, it was too late to take it back.

England scowled for a moment then scoffed. "At least a casual fling won't have an influence on him. He already borrows enough of your perversion of the language. He doesn't need more of a reason to assimilate the laughable existence you call culture."

America nodded. "So, you've finally come out and said it. You couldn't care less who Australia dates," He walked over, leaning in so he was practically nose to nose with England, "as long as it's not me."

England huffed, shoving America away. "What of it? I see no reason to let you. You're loud, rude, ignorant, and overall no good for him."

America snorted. "Oh come on! You know better than anyone else what I'm really like, _bro_. All I am asking for is one date. Let him decide if he's too good for me."

England sighed, falling silent. America wished he could hear his thoughts. If he were England, he'd be weighing the options: Should he let America - a nuisance that he knows and understands - date him, or should he wait until Australia suddenly he decides he wants more than a casual fling with a nation like Russia? Was it worth that kind of a risk? America liked to think that he would at least be a preferred choice over Russia.

"Just give me one date, England. That's all I need. I don't even care if you try and fail at stealthily stalking it!"

England scoffed. "Oh I'll certainly be doing that. Alright then, America. I'll agree to _one_ date, but I have eight simple rules that you'll have to follow. Should you fail to follow any of them at any point during the date, it will end. Do remember, I _will_ be watching you like a hawk. Don't even think of arsing about. You will only bring about your own demise."

America smiled. "I knew you'd see it my way, England! You won't regret this."

"I already do." England moaned, rubbing his forehead. "I am only allowing it, because I'm looking forward to watching as you flounder in the first five minutes."

"What makes you think that will happen?" America blinked. He wasn't some kind of an idiot. Why did everyone always think that? He just got a little excited about things sometimes.

"Why? When has Australia ever given you any kind of indication that he's even the slightest bit interested in you? In the hundred years of friendship between you, have you even been a casual shag?"

America blinked a few times. "Oh…well. No, I can't say I have been, but I don't see how that's really relevant…"

England sighed and shook his head. "I'll email the rules to you when I get back to the room. I expect you to have them memorized inside and out." He turned, heading for the door. "I also expect you to reply to the email with all of the details of your date once you make the arrangements with Australia."

America nodded absently as he pulled out his phone, looking up Australia's number. He had a date to plan. Why_ hadn't_ he ever had a casual fling with him?


	3. Chapter 3

8 Simple Rules 3

America pulled up to Australia's house in the car he'd rented at the airport. He was _never_ going to get used to driving on the left side of the road. Never. He sighed, leaning back in his seat, willing his grip on the wheel to loosen. It wasn't like he was trying to drive into that oncoming traffic! He didn't understand why everyone had to honk at him like that. He'd had the whole thing under control.

He looked at the passenger seat of his car, where he had a single red rose. He had considered getting a whole bouquet of flowers, since that was the typical thing to do when wooing someone. Of course, Australia was very decidedly male – and a damned fine one at that - so America decided one would be enough to be symbolic of the gesture.

He picked up the rose and got out of the car, running through the rules England had emailed to him mentally for what felt like the 100th time that day. It might have been. He'd read he email time and again the entire flight over. So far, he was pretty sure that he was doing a damned good job of following them.

_Rule 1: If you pull into the driveway and honk, you'd better be delivering something, because you sure as hell are not picking anyone up._

Now see there? He'd turned off the car and gotten out of it. That was one less rule he had to worry about. The rules as a whole were absolutely ridiculous, but if this is what he had to do to get his long desired date with Australia, he'd take it! All he needed was this one date to finally get what he'd wanted for more than a hundred years now. He rang the doorbell and waited as he heard shuffling around. He looked down at himself, checking his appearance again. With polished black shoes, black slacks, a pressed navy blue shirt and tie, there was nothing England could fault him with. Also, he looked pretty damned good, if he did say so himself.

_Rule 2: I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys in your country to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please DO take this as an insult when I say that you and all of __your__ people are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact come off during the course of you date with my colony; I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist. _

Sure enough, England proved his intent to make America's life miserable by being the one to open the door. America smiled brightly as England took in his appearance, scowling.

"Well, what do you know? Miracles do happen. You almost look like a passably respectable nation. Consider me absolutely astonished." England turned, leaving America to let himself in and close the door. "I told Australia to take his time getting ready, because I wanted to see how well you could follow the rules. I believe he invited New Zealand over for some video games. Why don't you have a seat?"

America just continued to smile as he walked over, sitting on the sofa.

England walked into the kitchen, and emerged a moment later, setting a glass of water in front of America. "So, we may as well get the basics out of the way. Where are you taking Australia?"

"Summit Restaurant."

England nodded a bit. "Ah, so you're going out to the Lookout. I hear the views are very nice there." He shot a look at America, who just nodded quickly. "I imagine he'll want to show you around the area after you eat. That's fine. When will you have him back home by?"

"…Early." England nodded in approval.

America covered a sigh in the form of exhaling into his cup as he took a sip of water.

_Rule 3: It is usually understood that in order for us to break the ice, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. I already know more about you and current affairs than I care to. Your "sports" are an utter abomination. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my colony safely back at the house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is: "early." _

_Rule 4: The following places are not appropriate for a date with my colony: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there is darkness. Places where there are dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to introduce my colony to wear shorts, tank tops, or anything other than slacks and a sweater. Movies with a strong __romantic__ or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which feature chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Cricket matches are better. No. Not the bug. _

America slowly sipped his water as England picked up his cross-stitching and went back to work. He willed himself not to look at the clock as fifteen minutes turned into thirty. Upstairs, he could hear the loud yells of Australia and New Zealand playing some kind of fighting game. From what he could tell, Australia was winning. That was good. It would be better if New Zealand would get the hell out so he could go on his date, but he wasn't complaining. Not at all. How were relations between their countries again? He could already feel his tourists considering going elsewhere. That wasn't his fault. Nope. It's obviously the result of the poor economy. Who could afford to go to New Zealand? Who would want to anyway? You could go to any sheep farm in America and have the same experience. The clock chimed on the wall. An hour had passed, and there was no indication that Australia was even getting ready for their date.

_Rule 5: As you sit in the living room, waiting for my colony to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for your plans, you should not be dating. My colony is styling his hair, a process than can take longer than painting your Golden Gate Bridge. _

Sometimes, America really hated England.


	4. Chapter 4

8 Simple Rules 4

America finally allowed himself to look at the clock when England's attention was diverted to New Zealand, grumbling as he came down the stairs. It wasn't nearly as late as he thought it had been. Had it really only been fifteen minutes? He checked his watch. It had been. Maybe it was one of those annoying clocks that chimed every quarter hour.

He felt eyes on him and looked up, frowning as he met New Zealand's piercing glare. What was the problem? Seriously? If New Zealand wanted Australia, he should have accepted the gatekeeper challenge. Surely, based on what Australia said, America wasn't the only one who had wanted to date him and had to go through this. The only obvious difference was that America was going to win.

Was New Zealand even a he? America could never figure it out. He didn't get a chance now, either, since New Zealand stalked out the front door without saying a word.

England coughed a bit as they listened to Australia shuffling around upstairs. "So, America. Why is it that you want to date Australia, hm? You could have just as easily had a shag with him and been done with it."

America stared at England for a moment before rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't want that. Well, I mean, sure. I'd like to do that eventually." He leaned back into the seat cushions, looking at his hands. "It's not to try to get to know him better either. We're pretty good friends, or at least I think we are. It's just…I've always wanted a, uhm, serious relationship with him. You know the whole exclusively dating spiel: hand holding, dates, corny gifts because they remind me of him, leaving flowers in unexpected places so he can find them, spending 5 hours on the phone saying nothing and being perfectly happy because we're on the phone with each other…"

England stared at him for a moment before looking back to his cross stitch pattern. "That's absurd, America. What nation would want that? It's for humans. You truly are a bloody prat."

America shrugged helplessly. He couldn't help it if it was the truth.

_Rule 6: Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a middle-aged, crotchety has-been empire that no longer has any sway over you. But on issues relating to my colony, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you anything, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a cement mixer and inhabit an island nation surround by miles of open, __**deep**__ ocean. Do not trifle with me._

Finally, Australia moved down the stairs buttoning his shirt. "Sorry that took so long. I keep telling New Zealand there's a bee's dick of a chance of ever beating me at that game, but that doesn't…stop…wow."

America stood up when Australia came down, only allowing himself a quick glance at what he was wearing. It seemed that he'd dressed fairly casually, in khaki slacks and green polo shirt. America flushed slightly, wondering if he'd overdressed. He walked over to Australia, holding out the rose he'd brought. "It's fine. I don't mind waiting. Here…" He felt like such an idiot.

Australia's smile betrayed the mocking laughter America swore was in his eyes as he took the rose. "It's going to be hard not to perve on you all night when you're dressed like that, America." He turned, heading into the kitchen with the rose.

America shoved his hands in his pockets, clenching at the fabric. His hands were getting sweaty already. He was finally getting his date with Australia, but it already seemed like it wasn't going to go as well as he'd hoped. It was obvious that Australia was just humoring him and going along with it. He probably didn't think that America would get through England. England's words from just a moment sooner came back to him. Why _would_ Australia give up his casual flings, just for America? Maybe the whole thing was just a big joke, and America was the butt of it.

It was all the more reason for America to work overtime to woo him, to prove to England – and maybe himself – that it was possible for nations to want something more.

He glanced over at England, who seemed to be ignoring him in favor of his craft project. How did you woo and seduce someone while keeping your hands to yourself?

_Rule 7: You do not touch my colony, and especially not in front of me. You may glance at him, so long as you do not peer at anything below his neck, and especially not below his waist. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my colony's body, I will remove them for you. Permanently. If at any point during the evening, he takes your hand, you may allow him to do so. However, that is ALL you may do. _


	5. Chapter 5

8 Simple Rules 5

America looked out the window, watching the country pass him. It was so much like home, and yet, so vastly different. For one thing, he couldn't shake the feeling of driving into oncoming traffic. It was just so wrong to be driving on this side of the road. He'd invented driving; shouldn't everyone follow his rules? He blamed England. It was bad enough that he'd been banished to the passenger seat. They hadn't been driving even five minutes before Australia had yelled at him to pull over and let him drive.

"I don't feel much like going to Brizzie though. How about Townsville? I know a great place there."

America groaned. Already he could hear the song getting stuck in his head again. "…Can we not? I just got that song out of my head."

Australia looked at him with a raised brow. "Song?"

America sighed. "I had considered taking you somewhere in Townsville, because it came up on Google a lot. But every time I did, all that came to mind was a narrator, talking about the City of Townsville, and the Professor making the perfect little girl. And then I'd start singing the Powerpuff Girl theme song. It gets annoying."

Australia chuckled. "I wasn't serious about going there anyway. Are you kidding? It's at least a 16 hour drive. You'd never get me home on time. You really don't know anything about geography, do you?" He reached over, ruffling America's hair. "I'm just wondering why you chose Brizzie, of all places."

America shrugged. "Because Google told me it was a good choice. We can go anywhere you want though." Great. The date hadn't even started and he'd already screwed it up by picking the wrong place.

Australia nodded. "You put a lot of thought into this, didn't you?"

America felt his cheeks getting warm. "I might have." Only a hundred years worth of it, really. "I guess I should have put a bit more in."

Australia smirked. "It's only been a few minutes. You're not giving up on me already, are you?"

America huffed. "Of course not! Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for this?"

Australia chuckled and turned off the road, driving up toward the restaurant. America wished more than anything he could read minds. He just wanted to know what he could do to make Australia want him as badly as he did. Come on, America! You're supposed to be suave, not a completely and totally awkward dweeb. Ugh, he was annoyed with himself. If it weren't for these stupid rules, he'd have been able to make all kinds of moves on Australia by now.

He glanced over his shoulder. There weren't any cars behind them. Good. Maybe England hadn't really followed them, after all.

It wasn't long before they'd reached the restaurant and were seated at their table outside. America took a moment to admire the view with all of the lights below.

"Don't stick your head out too far. Drop bears tend to like the atmosphere up here. They hang out on the roofs of the buildings sometimes."

America blinked, turning to look at Australia. "Drop bears?" Okay. He'd heard about the dangers of swimming around Australia. He heard about the bugs, the spiders, the vicious animals all waiting to attack the innocent travelers. He had never heard of a drop bear before. "What are they?"

Australia blinked. "Google didn't tell you about them?" He shook his head. "We need to set up an awareness programme or something." He leaned in closer. "Usually, they stick to treetops, but like I said, it's a nice atmosphere up here for 'em. They're a cousin of the koala, but they're a bit different. They're meat eaters."

America blinked and nodded. "Okay…?"

Australia shook his head. "Don't take it so lightly! Even I watch my back for 'em. They're a lot larger than koalas are, and they just lurk, waiting for their prey to walk by, oblivious to the vicious death awaiting 'em, and then they jump, sinking their fangs in! You read it in the paper all the time. Always someone getting the drop. In some cases, they couldn't even use dental records to identify them."

America blinked. "They attack people?" What the hell? Was there _anything_ in Australia that wasn't trying to kill people?

Australia shrugged. "Doesn't everything around here?"

The waitress walked over to their table. "Can I get you a drink?"

America looked up at her. "…Are there any tables available inside?"

He missed Australia's smirk as the waitress shook her head. "Oh, don't worry about the drop bears. They don't strike the same place twice, and we already had an encounter with em today. You'll be fine the rest of your time here. Have a drink, it will settle your nerves." 

America nodded, still unsure he wanted to believe that. "Ah, I guess I'll have a beer then. What do you have here, Fosters?" The table fell silent and America blinked. Both the waitress and Australia were staring at him. "…I'll take that as a no, then?"

_That _is a shite beer. Piss tastes better. No self respecting Aussie serves it to even their worst enemy. It sells so well in your country, because all your people drink is piss anyway." 

America blinked. He liked Fosters, and he really liked his beer. He couldn't understand why no one else did. He wasn't going to argue though. He was trying to get Australia to like him, not argue with him on everything. "…Well, what would you recommend?" He clenched and unclenched his hands on his knees. Every fiber of his national pride was telling him to argue the claim, but he really wanted this date to go well.

Australia just grinned, as if he knew he was pushing buttons, and looked at the waitress. "Give him some VB. That'll set him right. I'll take one too." The waitress nodded and headed off.

America tried to ignore the slight by focusing instead on the crawling sensation on the back of his neck. All the small hairs seemed to be on end. Years of experience from the Cold War made it clear to him. He was being watched. He glanced up at the roof. He wondered what color eyes the drop bears had. Something glinted over the roof and America cringed, turning his attention back to Australia, who was looking over the menu.

"They don't have burgers here."

America rolled his eyes. "That's not all I eat." He looked at the menu. "I'll just have that steak." He squinted at the menu. It would be great if he could understand half of it. "Wait. Maybe not. It's served with bay bug? You eat bugs?"

Australia laughed a bit. "You don't even know what a bay bug is?" He shook his head. "It's a kind of lobster."

America blinked and chuckled a bit nervously. "Of course! I was just making sure you knew what it was." He glanced back down at the menu. "Do they have any shrimp?"

America looked up, wondering what he did wrong this time as Australia's only answer was to groan while pinching the bridge of his nose.

This was not going as well as he'd hoped.

Notes: I am well aware that we did not invent driving (not on our own anyway), and that many attempts were underway in Europe as early as 1770. But this is America, we're talking about. We're up there with Korea on the "I invented that" claims. 

No. Drop Bears are not real. (Or are they?)

Australians do not call them shrimp. They call them prawns. Hence the groaning at the end.

Any "mistakes" in spelling, are the other spelling of English words. Divided by a common language indeed.


	6. Chapter 6

8 Simple Rules 6

AN: To ME WANT MOUR - Actually, I'm an American that graduated high school many moons ago. I live on the beach in NJ, which is almost the furthest from Townsville that I can get. This is a fill I am writing for the kink meme, as are all of my stories. (It's what I created this account for) Most of the Aussie!nons reading the story are from Townsville, or close to it, so I included it as a shout out to them.

To everyone else: BTW I love you all so very much. If you feel I should know something about Australia, feel free to mention in it your reviews. Otherwise, I only get what internet research gives me. If you have questions, I'll do my best to answer them. 3

It was a gnawing, nagging feeling. It had been with him the whole time they were eating, as he refused to let Australia pay for anything, and even now, as they were walking around outside and taking in the sights. That drop bear was just taunting him, stalking and lurking and how could Australia be so oblivious to their impending doom? America looked over at Australia and found himself getting lost in the view. Wasn't he supposed to be the one doing the wooing and seducing? It wasn't fair that he was already distractingly head over heels for the other. Meanwhile, what had he done all night? Language and cultural fails up the ass.

"You alright, America? I told you that you shouldn't have had that second beer; not when you drink that weak piss over there." Australia took his hand, pulling him out of the way of the streetlight he'd been about to walk into. Butterflies swarmed in America's stomach, even as alarms were going off in the back of his mind. Why was this an issue? Oh...right.

_Rule 7: You do not touch my colony. You may glance at him, so long as you do not peer at anything below his neck, and especially not below his waist. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my colony's body, I will remove them for you. Permanently. If at any point during the evening, he takes your hand, you may allow him to do so. However, that is ALL you may do. _

God damned rules. Does England have any idea how hard it was to make good on his promise to seduce Australia when he can't even touch him? Ah well. He never said that he couldn't do anything with Australia's hand once he had it, right?

He smiled a bit at Australia. "What are you talking about? I easily could have had a few more. I bet I could drink you under the table!"

Australia grinned. "Oh? And what would you do once you got me there?"

America raised a brow, smirking as he traced small circles in Australia's hand with his thumb. "Well, it wouldn't really be me doing anything. You'd be the one doing the work." Australia's breath hitched slightly and America took his small victory. He'd have to rack up a few more to make up for dinner. This was when it really mattered anyway.

America lifted Australia's hand in his as they rounded the corner. He pressed his lips lightly over calloused fingertips. Australia's hand clenched his a little tighter.

"America..." He lifted his gaze to Australia's, not allowing his eyes to open fully. He looked back to Australia's hand just as quickly.

"Of course, I'm sure I could think of a few things to do to you if I were so inclined to join you under that table."

Before Australia could reply, something snapped above them. America moved quickly, pushing him against the wall defensively as he looked up, ready to take on the stupid bear. "Don't worry. I'm not letting some bear be the cause of your demise. I'll protect you." Whatever was overhead scurried away. Yeah. That's right. Run you little pansy. Drop bears? Ha! More like pillow stuffing. Fluffy, cute, and not deadly at all. Mmhmm.

Laughter behind him broke him from his thoughts. "Hm?" He looked back over at Australia, who was trying, and failing, to suppress his snickering. "What?"

Australia shook his head and pushed off the wall into America. "Mm. Nothing. How about we head home, and I'll give my hero a proper thank you, ah?"

Something was pressing into America, and he had a pretty good idea he knew what it was. Because if Australia kept hanging on him like that...

He shook his head quickly and slowly pushed Australia back. "You don't have to do that. I mean, that's not- I'm not doing all of this because I want to sleep with you." He blinked and put his hands up. "Not that I don't want to! I do! It's just...if that's all I wanted, I wouldn't be doing all of this and worrying about these stupid rules and making a total ass of myself all night..." He sighed, shaking his head again. "...Nevermind."

As he started to turn away, Australia reached out, taking his hand to pull him close again. "No one's ever tried so hard for me." He smiled. "Let's head back to my place anyway. The sooner we end this date, the sooner we can go on a second with no rules to run you ragged, right?"

America smiled a bit. "Yeah, okay." They turned to head back to the car, and he supposed the last rule was more of a help than the boon he'd initially thought it would be.

_Rule 8: I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a "Barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you._


	7. Chapter 7

America looked around as they walked up to Australia's house. It was quiet. Too quiet. Granted, it was easily eleven at nig- Oh shit. What time did he say that he'd have Australia home by? He didn't break any of the rules, did he? He got this far, and he threw it all away by being late? He snapped out of his panic as he heard something on the roof.

"Did you hear that?"

Australia glanced over as he unlocked the door, pushing it open. "Hear what?"

America frowned, looking up at the roof. "That noise. There's something up there."

Australia shrugged. "Probably just a _drop bear_. Better be careful, America. I bet it's been stalking you all night, just waiting until you're alone. You better come inside with me, where it's safe."

America nodded a bit. "Right. I mean, I gotta protect you in case it decides to attack after all." He started to follow Australia in, but stopped. "Wait." He wasn't ithat/i stupid. Drop bears didn't attack people indoors! "Inviting me in after a date? I told you, I'm not going for that. Not yet anyway."

Australia let out an exasperated sigh as he turned. "Why the bloody hell not?"

America licked his lips. He wanted to, badly. But he had other things to consider. First and foremost, that last rule was out to kill him. He couldn't do anything. And, more importantly, his goal the whole night was to make Australia want him more than anyone else. He wanted to be the only thing on Australia's mind the rest of the week, the mere thought of him being the only thing to carry him over to the next date. He leaned in, just close enough that the hairs on his arms stood on edge with want of contact. His breath ghosted over Australia's lips before he moved to his ear. "Because I don't want to be another fling. I want you to want me just as much as I want you, because it's ME, and not just because it's a quick fuck."

He could feel Australia swallowing as he pulled away. He turned, heading back out onto the porch. "Hey Australia, "He glanced over his shoulder, shoving his hands in his pockets, "if you think you want to give this a try, you know my number. But I'm not doing this half assed. I want all of you, or nothing."

America sighed inwardly as he left Australia standing dumbfounded in the doorway. He probably wasn't used to anyone saying no. America wished he didn't have to, but he didn't go to all this trouble just to be the Friday night hookup. He got in his car, starting it up. Maybe he'd just sleep at the airport. It was late, and he didn't want to miss his flight. What brilliant idiot thought 5 in the morning was an ideal time for a flight? He backed out of the driveway, and started down the road. He could see in the rear view as he moved down the street that Australia was still standing there, watching him go. Hopefully that was a good sign.

When America awoke the next morning, he quickly made two realizations. First, the pain in his neck and back from sleeping at an awkward angle in an airport chair is not worth making your flight on time. It was just a stupid idea. And second, there was a piece of paper taped to his face. He ripped it off with a wince, noting that it was duct tape, and it now had a few strands of his hair attached to it. He stared at the paper for a moment. It was England's writing. How did England know he was here? When had he been there?

_America, _

_I cannot say that I know what Australia will decide to do, but I applaud you on your valiant efforts to obey my rules. For that, where no one else has dared to try, you have my blessing. That said, I have one more rule for you to follow. _

_I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other nations. You had your chance to do this before tonight. Once you have won the affection of my little boy, you will continue to date no one but him until he is finished with you. If, after 50 years, it appears that he will never be finished with you, I expect you to take the proper course of action and request my next set of rules. _

_During the course of your relationship, I will not interfere with you. However, while all of the other rules from tonight have expired, this one is perpetual and ongoing. I do not have many opportunities to show the commonwealth nations that I do, in fact, care for them. You have presented me with one. If you EVER make him cry, I will make you cry (and then get the cement mixer ready). _

_- The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland _

America just smiled. Was it too early to start checking his phone?


	8. Chapter 8

America let the chill of the granite top on the bar soothe the hangover he could feel coming on. Wasn't the cure for that to drink more? A hand dropped on his shoulder and he glanced up at...someone. He couldn't place the name at the moment, but he knew that he was annoying and a nag. "Go 'way."

The other sighed, taking the empty stool beside him. "Come on America..." He turned, waving at the bartender. "Get a glass of ice water for him, please?"

America scowled. "I dun wann waterrrr. If I drunk on waterrrr I'd be someways other."

The glass was pushed in his face. Oh. That was nice and cold, too. Okay. Maybe a few sips would be okay.

"That doesn't even make sense, America. Come on. Why are you doing this to yourself? You knew it was a possibility that he might not be interested in a relationship. A STRONG possibility. We're countries! How often do you ever see the relationship you want amongst our kind."

America frowned as he stared at the water. Maybe if he pretended it was vodka, that nagging voice in his mind would go away. He took a long sip and glanced to the side. No, his conscience was still sitting there. Since when did Nantucket have a curl?

"I followed did all da rules from the old man. I don't...was it because I called it shrimp? I didn't, who calls it prawns anywhos? And and...my beer is jus...jus as good as anyone elses! See how me it drunk?"

His conscience stared blankly at him. "..." He shook his head and took the glass of water, dumping it over America's head. Before he could react, he pulled him out of the bar seat, throwing him over his shoulder and carrying him out.

"I swear America, if you throw up on my ass I'm kicking yours. You're not even supposed to be drinking in your country!"

America groaned. The floor was moving too fast. "It's my country and I'll drunk if I wanna." Since when could ethereal representations of the internal struggle between good and evil become solid entities capable of lifting and carrying?

His conscience sighed again. "I shouldn't even tell you this, but I was watching hockey with Denmark and Russia earlier, and they were both complaining about their last hookups with Australia. Apparently he's not interested anymore."

America blinked. What was that? He lifted his head, looking over his shoulder. Oh. When did Canada get there? "What? Really?"

Canada stopped, dropping him on the ground. "Really? _That_ is what sobers you up? You're hopeless! He hasn't called you, America. Get over it! Move on! Just...go hook up with someone and get it over with! You're not a Puritan anymore."

America scrambled up, covering Canada's mouth. "Shut up, ibro/i! No one's supposed to know about that!" He jumped as his phone started playing Highway to Hell. There is only one nation who had that ringtone. He scrambled to pull it out, leaving his other hand over Canada's mouth as he answered breathlessly. "Hello?"

Australia's voice came over the other end. "Hey America. Got a minute?"

America smiled, and it must have looked goofy from the way Canada rolled his eyes. "Sure..."

Australia sighed. "Uhm...sorry, I know it took me a while to call you..."

America laughed, high pitched and somewhat forced. "What? This? I've waited longer for England to steep a cup of that garbage tea of his. I mean, really? What's a month or two? Just a drop in the bucket!"

There was silence on the other end.

"Australia? Are you still there? Hello?" America scowled at his phone. "Dammit ATT! Every time you promise to fix this garbage and charge me more it's just paying for more dropped calls!"

"America! I'm still here! Relax...I just..."

America blinked, pulling the phone back to his ear. Canada scoffed around his hand, but otherwise waited patiently.

"I'm sorry I took so long. I know you went to a lot of trouble with all the old man's rules, and that really...No one's ever cared enough about me to do that before. I just wanted to make absolute sure that I wanted the same you do."

America smiled. "O-oh? And...ah...do you?" He let go of Canada's mouth, freeing up a hand to cross his fingers.

"I don't see why we can't give it a burl. You definitely got what you wanted. Everything I did, everyone I was with, I was thinking about it. Thinking bout you. You...you said you were going to make me want you, and I _do_."

America heard someone approaching behind him and moved to the side of the sidewalk, staring blankly ahead of him. Australia wanted him. Him. America. More than anyone else. "I..."

Canada shook his head and waved to the figure before turning and heading off. America blinked as the footsteps approached him, turning to see what the guy's problem was. He found himself staring at Australia, who was hanging up his phone.

"So, what do you say? Will you have me? I didn't take too long, did I?"

America smiled, dropping his phone as he threw his arms around Australia's neck. "I would have waited forever for you..."

Australia smiled as he leaned in, kissing him lightly. He pulled away after a moment. "You've been drinking that sorry excuse for beer again, haven't you? Come on. I'm taking you to get pissed on the good stuff. I do believe you were talking about getting me under the table last time?"


	9. Epilogue

America hummed to himself as he checked the messages on his PersoComm before daring to glance at the record of work that was just waiting for him to log on. At least it was no longer the pounds and piles of paper that threatened to collapse his desk under its weight. Technology was a beautiful thing. All he had to do was get through the list of work, typing in the oh so simple electronic signature to everything and he would be free to go sit and wait for his flight to Australia. What? Getting rid of paperwork in 50 years was good progress. They couldn't be expected to develop teleportation in that time, too. There were all kinds of issues with atoms and molecules and conversions and oh god that poor cat ended up spliced with a fish the last time they tried. Flying was just fine for him.

Still, he had the nagging feeling all morning that he was forgetting something. He couldn't quite place his finger on it. Maybe it was anxiety over his trip. Not that he hadn't been making it every other month for years now. Did he forget to pack his razor again? He'd have to double check.

He deleted the mass of spam messages, smiled as he watched a video that Australia had sent him, replied to Canada about their plans for a camping trip the following week, and then stopped on an email from England. "8 Simple Rules...what?" He clicked on the subject, leaning back in his seat as he scrolled down to the message.

_America, _

_If anyone were to ask me 50 years ago if I thought that you could actually manage to keep Australia interested in dating you for so long, I would have laughed in their faces. Even after all this time, I fail to see what he likes so much about you. I've tried to make a list of endearing qualities but all that came to mind was that you're a slob, pig headed, foolish, crass, selfish, and you don't appreciate what you have. _

_However, you're completely different when it comes to Australia, so perhaps I just don't have the privilege of seeing the sides of you that he does. _

_50 years ago, I gave you permission to date Australia for as long as he would have you. If the numerous hours I've spent on the phone with him, listening to him go on and on about how excited he is for your anniversary is indication, I believe that he is far from being done with you. And for that reason, I am sending you the 8 simple rules for marrying my colony. _

_If you do not comply with them, you will be nothing more than atoms floating in the breeze by the time I am through with you._

_- United Kingdom of Great Britain _

_Attachment: 8 rules you better follow or 14kb _

America paled as he finished reading. He forgot his anniversary! He needed to get to the store! Screw work! He shot up from his chair, rushing to the door.

It took a moment for him to stop and look at the message again. Marry my colony.

Oh God.


End file.
